Page 77 of Kiss Me Tonight

I don’t know whether to wring her neck for throwing my words back in my face or drop my lips to hers for a hot kiss. Screw my vow to keep tonight platonic. In the end, I only manage a strangled laugh that catches in my throat. “You said it was pitch-black out.”

Still caged to my side by my one arm, she points at my face. “I can’t see a thing. Could be bright as day and I’d still be lost. Now, are you going to see me safely home like a gentleman or what?”

I’m pretty sure no one has ever labeled me a gentleman before.

A criminal? In my early days, yeah.

A smooth-talking playboy? Often enough.

A real good football player? Every day for the last decade and counting.

Never a gentleman, though. Not until now.

Not until Levi.

“You want to ride on my back?” I ask, because I’ll be damned if I let a single thing happen to her.

“And take a free pass to the beach?” She sprays water at me with a flick of her fingers in the rippling tide. “I’m not afraid of a little hard work,Coach. I’ll race you.”

I’m never one to turn down a challenge.

Or, it seems, a friendly race through the dark waters of Frenchman Bay, with me pushing the kayak and Levi having no qualms about pretending she can’t see me when she kicks me in the side or tries to shove me out of the way.

She’s as devious as her son.

And I like it. More than I should.

We make it back to shore in one piece.

Except that I can’t help but fear that a sliver of my useless heart has been stolen by the woman who flops onto her back as soon as we make it to the beach. Forgetting all about the sand that’s now coating her skin, she asks me, “Can we come back out tomorrow night?”

I throw my head back and laugh freely. “You’re a piece of work, Coach.”

Her fingers brush my ankle as I tower over her. “Correction—as a wise man once told me, I’m something of a work in progress.”

22

Aspen

“Oh, my God, look atthatguy.”

When Willow’s finger darts in front of my face, I bat her arm away and discreetly lean back on my bar stool to scope out whoeverthatguyis. My sister’s not one for subtlety, that’s for sure, which I guess isn’t a bad thing since we’ve skipped the Golden Fleece and opted for a night out in Bar Harbor, which is only a twenty-minute drive up the road from London.

The good thing about Bar Harbor?

Everyone’s a stranger.

Since walking into The Red Ruby thirty minutes ago, I haven’t recognized a single face. There’s certainly something to be said for not having to play the Coach card tonight or the Levi card oranycard, really, besides tossing back a drink or two and enjoying the evening for what it is. Freedom.

I’m grateful for having a night out with my sister where I can justrelax.

Willow smacks my arm, hissing, “He’s leaving!”

I sip my vodka and cranberry. No Guinness for me tonight. I learned that mistakeverywell the last time. “That’s what patrons do, Wills. They grab a cocktail, stay awhile, then leave when they’re ready to go home.”

“I’m going to get his number.”

I choke back a laugh. “You’re obsessive.”

---